More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
She stared at him, wanting so badly to believe him. Wanting to ignore the fear and anxiety festering beneath her ribs and give hope its way, but hoping had always hurt her. Still, she found herself nodding. Not hoping, exactly. Wishing, perhaps.
Elsie’s mind was racing enough to kick up dust.
A person could believe something to be true that wasn’t—a selfish person might think themselves kind, or an ugly person think themselves beautiful. And so truth was a sticky thing of wavering substance, not enough to acquit a man,
No one could ever forget their deepest hurts, only learn to better shoulder them.
